Benoic
by Shanna Ola Deora
Summary: Lancelot's return sparks uproar within the walls of Camelot, meanwhile Morgana plots and Aithusa grows stronger. Mordred, however, is determined to strike back at destiny and create his own path, while Merlin, himself, begins to feel the weight of his destiny as his power becomes near uncontrollable.


Summary: Lancelot's return sparks uproar within the walls of Camelot, meanwhile Morgana plots and Aithusa grows stronger. Mordred, however, is determined to strike back at destiny and create his own path, while Merlin, himself, begins to feel the weight of his destiny as his power becomes near uncontrollable.

A/N: YAY, I'm bringing Lancelot back and Arthur's going to find out what really happened, and I want Mordred to be a good guy (though we all know that's unlikely to happen, but in my story he MIGHT… The ending's a secret). Set just after 5x02. Anyways, on with the show…

Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin…

…

The crystalline moon hung low in the sky, creating a picturesque view of Camelot. The streets were empty, other than the guards that protected the city, but they barely made a noise as they watched the night. In the entrance to the courtyard stood two of those guards, one was clearly older than the other as his eyes and body showed complete concentration to his task. The younger, however, found his attention drifting away from his job, instead replaying the events from that evening.

The evening, of which, King Arthur had finally returned.

Followed by a seventeen year old boy, who had then proceeded to be knighted with the highest honour; and to say this other knight was jealous would be an understatement. It had taken years of training and service until he had been knighted, and even then it was with some reluctance. The man thought back to the day he had been handed that honour just five years ago. Uther had been a good King, far better than Arthur could ever be. For starters, Arthur didn't do as much to up-hold the ban on magic like Uther would have wanted him too.

"Thomas!" The older man brought Thomas from his thoughts.

This man had a hint of a grey, wispy beard and his hair was streaked with white. His steely-blue eyes stared into Thomas's muddy brown ones, his lips pulled into a frown. This man had served for far longer than the other knights, his career going back to before the death of Ygraine Pendragon, when he was a close confident and friend to both King and Queen. However, as he grew older, he refused to leave his duty as a Knight, arguing that he shall die fighting for his city, but though he never does strenuous Knight work anymore, he picks up the slacks of other Knight's in smaller problems, such as being a night guard.

Though this man was no longer a full-time knight anymore, the other knight's respected him as one of the greatest fighters and mentor's Camelot has ever seen and there once was a time where Knight's from other Kingdom's would seek him out for his teaching in the art of combat.

The younger man, Thomas, however, held no respect for this old man; instead he looked down at him.

"Yes Balron?"

Balron's eyes narrowed at Thomas. It was a well-known fact that a younger knight must always address their elder knights by 'Sir.'

"Your focus is lacking! We have a job to do and your mind is elsewhere, do not make me report this disobedience to the Queen!"

Another thing Thomas hated, 'The Queen.'

Nothing but a serving girl whose father was executed for sorcery, she probably had magic too. There was no other reason for King Arthur's infatuation with her.

Thomas apologized, though it held no meaning.

Balron shook his head, this man had no respect.

"Who goes there?" A shout came from ahead and Balron's head snapped up, ignoring Thomas, he ran towards the commotion. He approached two guards, one wielding a spear, whilst the other held a sword to the man in the shadows.

"Declare yourself!" The sword-wielding guard yelled.

"It is I," The man concealed in shadows spoke.

All four of them froze in shock, they knew that voice. Balron regained his composure first.

"Lancelot."

…

Aithusa groaned, her feet slipping in the snow as the blizzard howled dangerously around her. Her strength was near depleted.

She watched Morgana tumble before her and she let out a wail of despair as she noticed the witch's hand fly to her back where Mordred had stabbed her. They continued forward in the torturous conditions.

There! Aithusa gestured wildly with her wings towards a cavern that would shelter them from the blizzard. Morgana turned and, without question, headed towards it, followed closely by Aithusa.

As they finally reached the safety of the cavern, Morgana's eyes unfocused and she fell to her knees, finally blacking out.

…

She was no longer lying on the rocky floor of the cavern, Morgana knew that much. Instead she lay on a comfortable straw bed, but the young sorceress did not know how she came to be there. A cold cloth wiped at her face and she was wrapped up in a bundle of blankets.

"I know you're awake dear, I will not cause you any harm."

Morgana's eyes opened, flicking to the side to inspect her surroundings

It was a cosy cave; a thick woollen rug blocked the entrance and kept the cold out, but was light enough that you could pull it aside. The floor was also covered in the rugs too. Morgana noted that Aithusa was sleeping snugly in the corner, her head under her torn and battered wing. There was a fire place, a dark pot hovering above it making sizzling sounds and countless pots were strewn across the cave.

The lady sitting above her was old, yet something in the way she sat showed a kind of eternal youth and regalia. Her face was smudged with dirt and wrinkles, but Morgana could see a hint of beauty in her face. Her hair was pulled to the top of her head and held in place with a bandana, but even then Morgana could see how it was crudely cut. The lady was dressed in warm furs and dark colours which highlighted her eyes.

"You must rest," she insisted when Morgana tried to move. The witch then saw the grief in her eyes, grief which had obviously been there for decades.

"Who are you?"

She smiled kindly, "I am Elaine of Benwick, now rest, my husband shall return soon."

It was then that Morgana finally rested.

…

Meanwhile in Camelot, Mordred awoke.

He had watched the encounter in his dreams. The druid shook his head, no matter how far away they were, Morgana just could not give him a break.

He turned on his side and tried to sleep, but then the warning bell began.

…

**I had a tough time writing Morgana's bit and I'm not very happy with this, but oh well.**

**I'm hoping some of you can guess who Elaine of Benwick from legend is…**

**Anyways, I'm going to try and update sometime in the next few weeks if I get good reviews :) **

**SOD x**


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